Five Nights at Freddy's
by purnip
Summary: Mike Schmidt takes up a part-time job working the night shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. It seems like an effortless way to make some change, until he begins to uncover a particularly dark secret behind the franchise as the animatronics begin to roam the halls at night. What's more, his very fate might have been molded by it back in 1975, as memories resurface.
1. Night 1: Orientation

AN: I created this story based on the events depicted and implied during FNAF1, 2, and 3. It take place during FNAF1, starring Mike as the main character. After playing the games I wondered what it'd be like if the games had been converted to a show or movie, knowing full well it'd probably end in a flaming disaster. Trouble is, I'm stubborn and bored, so I decided to try my hand at a somewhat cinematic approach to telling this story (minus the actual use of animation or cinema-ain't got time/resources for that!). The story is not going to be entirely canon, clearly I will take some creative liberties, though I do make an attempt to make sure everything can make sense even if it hasn't been proven or it's still a fan's rumor. I do not own Five Nights at Freddy's. All properties belong to Scott Cawthon. You brilliant, brilliant man.

-Story Time!-

A heavily clouded sky stretches over a stout building with a packed parking lot outside. A man in what looks to be his late-twenties exits a shabby-looking Medallion, using his key to lock the door, and proceeds to stride towards the entrance. His steps are brisk, his posture correct, but there's a push to his gait that suggests impatience. As he approaches the entrance, there's a white 1970 Chevy El Camino parked just out front, which looks relatively new. A mother is standing beside the passenger side, handing her keys over to a valet, and her two kids are clamoring to get out of the car. The brothers seem to be in the middle of an argument. As the man passes by, the car and all four people disappear as if they are some sort of apparition.

Past the notably short entrance the sound of children talking and shouting saturates the air. The walls of the Dining Hall are decorated in posters and streamers, one that reads the name of this facility as**_ Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria_**. There appears to be a private party, and the attendance is somewhat dense. The man hesitates, taking it all in until he spots the manager. He winds his way through the crowd and meets with him.

The manager is preoccupied, engaging with one of the employees, but as soon as he notices the man approaching he waves him over.

"Hey!" he calls, hearty as ever. "There you are! You're early! Just a second-" he turns to the employee, but over all the noise it's impossible to determine what he's saying. Once his attention returns to the man he jerks his head towards the hall to his left. "Come to the office! It's pretty loud out here!" He ushers the man on over to the security office so they can escape from the hustle and bustle of the dining area. They go down a hall that has various posters of three animal mascots, including the main attraction himself. When they reach the office, it's much quieter. The walls certainly look heavier, and the back is lined with cabinets. The desk is also quite cluttered, but having a computer there doesn't really help, along with what looks to be a fax machine, a steel fan, and a tangle of wires. The man is having a hard time breaking his gaze from the eerie cupcake poised on the printer, but the manager's voice calls him to attention.

"Sooo, Mike Schmidt. Are you ready for tonight?"

The man shrugs. "I guess."

The manager shakes his head, smirking. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong. See," he trails off as he opens one of the desk drawers and starts fishing for a uniform. He pulls out a plastic-wrapped and tightly folded shirt with a security patch embroidered on it. "You're going to need this if you're working the night shift. Not much of an employee without a uniform, am I right?" He chuckles, handing Mike the package. He also removes a spare key from a clip on his set of keys and hands that over. He goes on to explain that the shift had to be reinstated for insurance purposes, since the animatronics are allegedly worth hundreds of dollars and the neighborhood '_isn't exactly Stepford_'. The manager admits to being very rusty on the procedures, but he is able to offer some vague and typical advice.

"We had a guy working here before you who's been with the company forever, but he just disappeared on us last week. No notes, nothing. Just a whole bunch of tapes. I haven't had time to listen to any of them, but I know the older ones are instructional. He labeled most of the new ones by night, so I'm guess the guy planned this all along. Just wish he'd have put in a two-weeks notice, you know?"

"Hey, how hard can it be?" The manager adds, shrugging. "I know the pay is well, peanuts. But you're just going to be sitting in that chair all night watching cameras. I got paid half as much flipping burgers in the hot sun. And the chances of anything actually going on here? Just having you around will keep those goonies outside where they belong."

"Midnight to six, then?"

"That's right. Midnight to six, Monday through Friday. You said you were available on Saturday nights too, right?"

"Um..."

"Well, it's not going to happen every Saturday night, but we might need you if we get booked in the afternoon. We'll pay you a little extra for the overtime. That sound alright?"

"That sounds fine."

"Great! Hey, just...remember to smile. You are the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, after all," the manager chimes sarcastically. Mike delivers a forced smile in return. As the manager steps out of the office, Mike takes another few seconds to look over the office, familiarizing himself with the tiny closet of a room. He takes note of the strange drawings on the walls and the massive buttons on the far door, one marked for light while the other is marked for the door. There are no hinges to indicate that there is a door present however. Strange as that is, he simply ignores it and makes his way out the way he came.

Mike strides back to his car, uniform and key in hand. Judging by the relative position of the sun he still has a little less than half a day to do slack off before going to work. He slides into his car, dropping the uniform on the passenger seat and adding the key to his own collection. There's a tiny Freddy plush on his rear-view mirror that looks very dusty and sun bleached. Once he finishes attaching the new key and starting his car, he sits back and considers what he wants to do, all while staring at that dangling toy. He seems to be lost to some kind of memory, one he can't quite place. His brow is wrinkled in concern over this invisible threat to his peace. He decides, without really being conscious of it, to remove the plush and toss it casually into the back seat.

A slight time-lapse on the ornament indicates that on the night of that day, Mike has locked up his car door and is now striding over to the empty pizzeria, fiddling with the keys, a backpack stuffed with goods weighing down his arm.

He opens the door with a bit of trouble and picks out the flashlight from his bag to light the way through the darkness. He passes by the animatronics, whose eyes are still lit despite the power being down throughout most of the building. Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica are merely gazing off into the distance, stuck in a neutral pose. Mike hesitates briefly, staring them down, then passes them. Their eyes are all on him once he stops obstructing the audience's sight.

He plops the bag on the office desk and slides into the chair, staring at the time, stretching and groaning very audibly before he starts looking over the desk. He notices the drawings and such but he's particularly fascinated with the tablet monitor lying on the desk. It appears to be connected to all the security cameras, so he can easily shuffle through them. Nothing appears out of place, and as he cycles through them heavy lidded and near falling asleep, a loud ring jostles him awake.

He scrambles to pick up the phone and listens, but the line is dead. He sniffs, blaming it on some stupid kid pranking the store and hangs it right back up. That's when he notices the tape player and the tapes that the manager mentioned sitting by the phone. He looks through them, reading their labels, and pops in the one that says 'First Night'.

_"Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?_"

Mike smirks, but as the message is playing he starts to unpack snacks from his backpack.

_"Uh, let's see, first there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, it's kind of a legal thing, you know. Um, "Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced."_

_Blah blah blah, now that might sound bad, I know, but there's really nothing to worry about. Uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit quirky at night, but do I blame them? No. If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath? I'd probably be a bit irritable at night too. So, remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay._"

The man's a real character. Mike couldn't help but a chuckle a couple of times during the recording. Either he really did stop caring about this gig or he cared a little too much. In any case, he wouldn't have minded meeting this guy before picking up the job.

_"So, just be aware, the characters do tend to wander a bit. Uh, they're left in some kind of free roaming mode at night. Uh...Something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long. Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day too. But then there was The Bite of '87. Yeah. I-It's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?"_

"Right," he mutters aloud. Still, during the message he peeks at the stage on the monitor. All three animatronics are still there in the same pose.

_"Uh, now concerning your safety, the only real risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours probably won't recognize you as a person. They'll p-most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to...forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit. Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices, especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort...and death. Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh._

_Y-Yeah, they don't tell you these things when you sign up. But hey, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow. Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night._"

When the tape wraps up, he starts biting into a sandwich while trying to fiddle with the tablet. There's somewhat of a montage of him just goofing around in the office, listlessly squeezing the cupcake toy, rolling around on his chair, taking a nap, reading a comic book. Eventually, he notices an exclamation point icon at the top corner and cycles through lazily. He stops on the stage when he notices that Bonnie is no longer there. His eyes widen slightly. He flicks through the cameras and sees that Bonnie is frozen in place in the Storage Closet. He turns on the light to his left by using the hilariously large button but Bonnie is not present. He apprehensively shuts the left door and when it comes down it startles him in the process. Back to the cameras. Bonnie's nowhere. He tries to find him a bit more desperately until he hears a heavy breathing behind him. He practically falls out of his chair screaming obscenities when he realizes Bonnie is there.

There's a laughter from within the suit. The head of it is removed to reveal the manager.

"Slacking off on the first day, eh?" he says, laughing heartily.

"Fuck! That's not funny!" Mike hollers, flailing as he tries to untangle himself from the chair on the ground.

"Come on, Mike. That was priceless! No need to curse at me now."

"You don't just do something like that!" Back sore from the fall, Mike manages to get to his feet and the chair back up in place. "That's how people get hurt!"

"Really? Look, I'm sorry, alright? I just wanted to check up on you on your first night, see what you were up to. That's all! I thought maybe I'd have a little fun too. Nobody got hurt, alright? And hey, if you did hurt me, I wouldn't have blamed you. You'd just be doing your job."

"I guess," Mike mutters, rubbing his lower back. "So the robots are just suits, huh?"

The manager shows Mike the Bonnie head, which up close actually looks like a very cheap replica. "Not at all. These are backup suits in case any of the animatronics break down. They're pretty terrible. We used to have one of Foxy too, but it keeps getting ripped up. One of the reasons I'm willing to keep an extra pair of eyes out at night. We might have a vandal."

"What am I supposed to do if I see any suspicious activity?"

"You can use these doors to lock yourself up, though I've got to warn you, they waste a lot of power to bring up again. Damn things weigh a ton. Gotta have like four guys at a time installing one of those things. Also, the ventilation in this room is terrible. If both doors are closed you'll start having trouble breathing if you're one of those ah...what's the word? Closetphobics? Whatever. Only use them in case of an emergency." He turns to the computer on the desk and boots it up. "If you open up the security program, just hit 'Record'. I thought we went over that, didn't we?"

Mike leans forward to get a better look. "Yeah but...that's it? I don't try calling 911? I don't get a nightstick?"

"You kind of need to be licensed to carry a weapon and well, that'd make your paycheck a little heftier than I can afford. As for 911, unless you have one of those brick-phones, that phone on the desk only receives incoming calls."

Mike glances to the monitor. "What about the real Bonnie? He's not on the stage."

"They walk! Wow, thought I told you that too."

"Wait, really?"

"Well, duh. Why do you think this place gets packed to the gills with children? Those things are worth every penny we put into them! They're so advanced I've got one buddy in Japan who wants Chica for research purposes."

Mike seems to be preoccupied by this information. All this time he thought the man on the tapes was just pulling his leg, trying to scare him like this asshole just did. Now he's not so sure how much of this information he should take to heart. "Where do they go? I mean, what do they do?"

The manager starts removing the Bonnie suit as he explains. "Here and there. Honestly I don't stick around for it. Really creeps me out. From what I was told they just kind of meander. It's no big deal. Hey, if a bunch of screaming, drooling kids can hang all over them for hours on end, I'm sure they're nothing to worry about. They'll probably just ignore you. Anyways-"

He puts Bonnie's head in Mike's hands. "I've got to get going. Wife's going to be pissed off if she finds out I left her home alone. Good luck on the rest of your shift! And no slacking off!"

After the manager leaves, Mike shuts both doors to his office and sits down with a deep sigh, eyeballing the Bonnie head in his hands. It's only 3AM when he glances at the time. Putting the head down on the floor next to the mess of a suit the manager left behind, he starts going through the file cabinets. Since this also doubles as the manager's office, there's one file cabinet that's completely locked up, but he disregards it. He seems to pause every now and then, as if forgetting what it is he's looking for, and he's starting to sweat even though the fan is blowing air right at him. He doesn't find anything particularly interesting and eventually gives up on snooping, sitting back and popping in one of the tapes labeled 'Instructional Pt. 1' into the tape player.

_"Uh, hello! Hello, hello! Uh, welcome to your new career as a performer/entertainer for Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Uh, these tapes will provide you with much needed information on how to handle/climb into/climb out of mascot costumes. Right now, we have two specially designed suits that double as both animatronics and suits. So please pay close attention while learning how to operate these suits as accidents/injuries/death/irreparable and grotesque maiming can occur. First and most discussed is how to operate the mascots while in animatronic form.."_

He drifts off and falls asleep in his chair sometime after popping in the second part.

_Flashes of children laughing, sitting on every side of a long stretching table. You're no bigger than they are and the world is heavy with the sound of cheering and song. A merry band of animals are playing songs on a small stage, but one of them doesn't look right. He's not the right color. He stops singing but the music doesn't change. He looks right at you and his pupils shrink to the size of two tiny white dots and he won't stop staring right at you. He's getting closer and the children are cheering louder and louder but the sound is like screaming. Closer and closer until his face is all you see and the screams oh god the screaming_

Mike is suddenly awoken by the wailing of the alarm in his office hitting 6AM. He is sweating profusely and he is flushed. He realizes that the manager had been right-the doors are best left open. Checking everything once more, he sees that Freddy and Chica are on stage and that Bonnie is still missing. He assumes the manager might have put it away in order to scare him effectively and decides to dismiss it for the night. He slides over to the left door, opens it, gets up and hits the button for the right as he picks up his backpack and leaves swiftly.

As his footfalls grow distant, Bonnie is barely seen leaning in at the left door, peeking inside of the office with his brilliant eyes piercing the pitch darkness of the hall.


	2. Night 2: Complications

Sitting back in his chair with feet propped up on the desk, Mike is whistling away in the office, as the cameras depict nothing unusual happening in any of the halls. It's his second night on the job so far, though judging by the time he hasn't been there very long today. The camera depicts him leaning back in his seat with his feet on the table, playing with a rubber band several minutes later. Growing bored of mastering the rubber band he finds a marker and starts to draw on a nearby scrap of paper. He's drawing a crude, yet lewd picture of the animatronics and putting it up with the kid's drawings like a proud parent. The first attempt is fruitless as the drawing simply drifts back down. Moving to grab it in the air he accidentally knocks over the stack of tapes and catches sight of the one labeled 'Night 2'. The guy on the tape was pretty funny the first time around and if there's three more tapes like that, he could do with a laugh. Mike puts it in the player and starts it up as he returns to the daunting task of pinning up his art. It keeps drifting off the wall.

_"Uhh, Hello? Hello? Uh, well, if you're hearing this and you made it to day two, uh, congrats! I-I won't talk quite as long this time since Freddy and his friends tend to become more active as the week progresses. Uhh, it might be a good idea to peek at those cameras while I talk just to make sure everyone's in their proper place. You know..._"

Finally! Mike admires his work when he finally gets the drawing to stay. He wonders if maybe he should sign it. It's not like the boss will be able to tell that doodle there on the left is supposed to be him.

_"Uh... Interestingly enough, Freddy himself doesn't come off stage very often. I heard he becomes a lot more active in the dark though, so, hey, I guess that's one more reason not to run out of power, right? I-I also want to emphasize the importance of using your door lights. There are blind spots in your camera views, and those blind spots happen to be right outside of your doors. So if-if you can't find something, or someone, on your cameras, be sure to check the door lights."_

Is that true? Mike picks up the monitor and checks it out. As a matter of fact, it is. The halls have blind spots just outside the doors. If someone is standing outside the office there's no way he'd notice without the lights on. He reaches over to the light switches on his left and right and just pops them on. Maybe it's silly given that only children are supposed to fear the dark, but it's not going to hurt to have them on either.

_"Uh, you might only have a few seconds to react... Uh, not that you would be in any danger, of course. I'm not implying that. Also, check on the curtain in Pirate Cove from time to time. The character in there seems unique in that he becomes more active if the cameras remain off for long periods of time. I guess he doesn't like being watched. I don't know. Anyway, I'm sure you have everything under control! Uh, talk to you soon._"

Mike rolls his eyes, smirking to himself. This guy is really dedicated to his cause of making greenhorns like himself take a dump in his pants. The bull here is far too obvious. The clock is now showing 2AM, can the time go any slower? Near the end of the message he picks up the camera and notices Bonnie's in the Dining Room and Chica is also off the stage.

His frown deepens, he checks the curtain on the camera. Nothing but a sign that reads 'Out of Order' as well as a curtained off area.

_A jovial fox in a pirate's outfit gives a hearty 'yaaaar!' to a small group of children, yourself included._

Mike's eyes narrow slightly at the strange, sudden memory. "Ugh, you're kidding me," he mumbles, scratching his head. He gets up, readies his flashlight, and wanders down the hall towards Chica. "Might as well check on them. This oughta be good," he says somewhat nervously.

He picks his way through the East Hall at a leisurely pace, letting his light guide him away from hazards like a mop bucket and a box of linens. He passes the kitchen and sees Chica at the end of the hall where the Restrooms are located. Mike smirks when he takes note of the 'Lets Eat!' bib she's wearing. He makes a cheeky remark about midnight snacks getting to her gut as he gets nearer to her. He pauses a foot away and waits for her to move. He's shining the flashlight in her face as she stands completely still. He can see the endoskeleton inside, and he keeps tilting his head to see if anybody is inside the suit.

"This isn't funny," he warns, before resting back on his heels and giving the animatronic a slight push. It barely budges, heavy and resistant. He's about to move around it when he feels his shirt is caught onto something. He turns to find that Chica is grabbing it. When he looks up at her, her eyes are focused on him and her beak is parted open, revealing the extra set of teeth inside. Mike panics and pulls away from her, letting his shirt get torn in the process as he runs for the office.

On his way there, he sees the silhouette of something large standing in the doorway of his office and backtracks into the Kitchen, slamming the door behind him repeating "what the fuck was that" to himself as he backs away. He turns the flashlight to the room to make sure he's alone. Aside from the sort of things one expects to see in a kitchen, he sees two old, dusty machines that are completely powered off and unplugged. He leans against the door, slides down, and waits listening patiently. He can hear heavy footsteps moving closer and away while he tries to psyche himself out. There's no way this job is that dangerous. Is someone in here? There's no way those things are going to do half of what that guy says. They probably are on some free roaming mode just like the manager said, and they probably don't do anything rash. Mike waits until his breath regulates before trying the door very quietly. There is nothing in the hall. If he can make it to his room he can use the cameras to stay a step ahead of these things. They seem to be easily dissuaded.

He leaves the kitchen and shuffles to the office, where everything looks to have been left as it was. He picks up the monitor and sees that both Bonnie and Chica are closer to the Stage again, and that Freddy still hasn't gone anywhere. The curtain in Pirate's Cove hasn't changed. He switches around, until he unwittingly stops on CAM 2B. The poster. It used to depict an image of Freddy Fazbear only now...he sees Freddy in brilliant gold looking right back at him just like the one in his nightmare yesterday. The more it dawns on him, the more paralyzed his limbs seem to grow. He just manages to switch over the camera when the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand. He feels so cold all over, his gaze slowly tracks upwards to meet that of the massive, slumping suit before him, brilliant gold like the Freddy on the poster. The world grows darker and darker all around him as he slowly falls unconscious.

The sound of the wailing alarm stirs Mike from his slumber, which was uncomfortably kept to the ground when his chair tipped over with him in it. His side hurts from the impact, and getting up is a larger chore than it was when the chair fell over on him yesterday. He checks the doors and sees nothing. He checks the office and sees nothing. Once he musters enough nerve to look at the monitor, he sees all three animatronics standing on stage looking utterly benign. Even the 'Cove hasn't changed a bit. The time shows 6:30AM, which means the damned alarm has been wailing on for about half an hour. Reaching to turn it off, he curses to himself. Was it all a dream? Maybe...had to be...

As he's leaving the building, the manager's car pulls up. Mike picks up his gait to meet him outside of the vehicle.

"Holy hell, Mike. You look like a trainwreck," the manager says. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, great. Everything's fine," Mike says rather quickly. "Listen. Are those animatronics dangerous at all? To me?"

While he's talking, the manager is looking him over, taking note of the ripped uniform. Mike's eye is guided down and he notices it too. So that incident with Chica...was that real?

"They shouldn't be," his boss begins, words dragging pensively. "Listen, if you're thinking of flaking out on me, you've got to let me know. I can't leave this place empty. You know. Insurance."

"Yeah, I know, I get it. I just need to know, are these things going to try to hurt me? I know it was probably a joke but the guy on the tapes said they'd try to stuff me in a suit!" Mike knew how stupid it sounded but the concern was becoming real.

"Stuff you into a suit?" The manager repeats, raising his brows. "I doubt it. Those things might be advanced, but they can sing, they can dance, they can pat you on the head-they can't open a jar of mayonnaise. Can't stuff a full grown man into a suit either. Take my word for it. If those things were dangerous, we wouldn't lock a poor Schmi-heh-'shmuck' in there with them in the middle of the night. Now if you think you're going to slug one of them, you better think twice, Mike. If they get so much as a dent on them I'm looking at a $200 bill!"

"So what if, hypothetically, they came after me?"

"I don't know-shut a door in their face. Actually that's not a bad idea. They're programmed to stay away from places that they aren't wanted."

That's right. If that incident with Chica really did occur, that would explain why she moved back to the Dining Hall rather than waiting just outside the door for him. Mike remembers something else. The Bite of '87. At first he thought it was some kind of joke but maybe it wasn't. "Has there ever been any incidents with them though?"

The manager's expression grows slightly grim. "Well...yeah but, that was years ago. And at a completely different location. That animatronic was dismantled after it attacked one of our own during a birthday party. Poor bastard. You'd think he'd run for the hills after a bite like that, but believe it or not, he's still with us. Kind of sad, really. We don't talk about it but hey, you asked. To be honest I'm surprised the company hasn't gone down the crap chute after that. We had plans in the works to turn things around if we had to, but in the end, it all turned out fine."

Still rather uncomfortable, Mike lingers a bit. The manager can't really let this go.

"Listen, if it makes you feel any better, they've gotten some work done recently and they should be in the best shape of their lives. If you think you're going to bail on me, just let me know now so I can find someone to replace you."

"No, it's fine," Mike mutters, collecting himself. "You said the door thing works?"

"Absolutely. Had to shut one in Chica's face the other day when I was cleaning out the office. Turned her right back around."

"Alright." With a stretch, Mike adjusts his backpack on his shoulders and starts sauntering towards his car. "Take care."

"Get some rest!" The manager shouts after him.


	3. Night 3: The Incident

The sun is out and shinning brightly over the semi-packed parking lot as Mike graces the pizzeria with his presence, this time accompanying a friend whose brought his daughter along. The manager had encouraged him upon hire to do this sort of thing once in a while if he wanted to get a raise sooner than later, and the planets simply aligned in his favor when an old high school buddy rang in about a party that his daughter got invited to. Mike and his friend take a seat inside at a guest table near the entrance while the little girl takes off to meet her peers. Mike is thanked for getting a hold of some free tokens, the two have a light chat among themselves until the friend eventually gets up to accompany his daughter for the cake-cutting ceremony. Mike watches Freddy light the candles. He sees the other two members of the band playing for the crowd. During the day it all looks and feels so different. It's not nearly as oppressive or dangerous. All the lights are on and the animatronics look less like gargoyles and more like friendly woodland creatures in dapper outfits, Chica excluded. Still, he feels like an invisible weight is upon him, and he excuses himself to speak to one of the attendants.

There's a young woman stamping children near the entrance as they come inside, as well as checking those on their way out to make sure the right kids were going home with the right parents. She looks to him as he approaches and she seems to recognize him, but she can't quite fathom why behind a blank stare. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, my name's Mike. I work the night shift," he starts. It's hard to meet her eyes. She looks pretty cute in uniform and he had enough trouble getting accused of harrassment at his last job.

She probably finds it cute that he's acting a bit shy because she chuckles in response. "New fish? How's the nightlife?"

"Long, quiet," he mutters. "It's an adjustment."

"I didn't even know we had a shift running that late," she says, dabbing her stamp with ink. "I knew someone quit on short notice but I don't think I've ever met him."

"Yeah. Actually, I was hoping I'd get a chance to talk to him. Anyone here know him well enough to have a number or something?"

"Well..." she pauses to stamp a child and his guardian as they enter. "You could talk to Jeremy. He's been working here way longer than I have though...he's kind of weird." She watches as the two guests pass inside before ducking closer to Mike. "They call him the 'Bite Guy'. Not to his face, of course."

Mike turns to where she's looking, towards the prize counter where a man wearing a Freddy Fazbear mask is throwing some tickets away after a kid finished cashing them in. "Is he...the Bite of '87?"

"Yeah, probably," she says quickly. "I don't know. He gives me the chills. He seems like a nice guy but...it's kind of awkward trying to talk to him. You know...brain damage? I'm really bad with that kind of stuff."

After staring for nearly a minute, Mike excuses himself from the attendant and makes for the prize counter. Jeremy only catches notice of him once he's practically standing on the other side of the counter.

"Tickets?" he asks. Through the mask, Mike can tell precious little about him, but his tone is nearly devoid of emotion. The one-word inquiry barely sounded like a question and more of a statement.

"Actually, I'm all set. I work here," he offers his hand to Jeremy. "Name's Mike."

"Oh. Welcome to Fazbear's Pizzeria," Jeremy says with limited enthusiasm. "It's Jeremy." He accepts the handshake. His grip is neither too tight nor too loose.

"I just started working here a couple of nights ago. I was wondering if you knew anything about the last nightguard?"

"That was me."

"What?"

"Yeah, I was promoted yesterday." Jeremy looked off into the distance as he spoke, eyes narrowing slightly. It was impossible to tell what he was emoting underneath the mask. "I'm supposed to watch the Mangle today, but they cancelled. The new manager said the toy bots were sent to the shop last night. I don't remember seeing you around..."

At this point, Mike was concentrating hard on Jeremy's words, trying to piece this timeline together. What's 'The Mangle'? "What about the guy on the tapes? That wasn't you, was it?"

"Are you talking about the instructional tapes?" He shakes his head, but not all the way. The struggle is not very evident. "Nah. Scott made those. If you're looking for him, he's probably coming in little later."

"Actually, he quit two days ago," Mike reveals, watching Jeremy closely.

"He did? No...I saw him yesterday."

"He quit," Mike insists. "But if you have a phone number, I'd really like to speak to him."

Jeremy shuffles behind the counter, pensive perhaps. "I d-don't have it. But he calls in to make sure you're alright. Don't doubt in him. He got me through some really rough nights." His voice now has tone to it, but it's taken on the nature of a child's whine. Mike grows nervous, hoping he hadn't triggered something just now. He nearly forgot about how severe this brain damage thing could actually be.

"What did you...see exactly?"

Jeremy appears to calm down a little, no longer rocking in place. "The toy bots were malfunctioning. They're supposed to be able to detect criminals, but they kept coming to me. I swear, I did nothing wrong, but they just kept coming. We thought...maybe it had something to do with the others. I think he got rid of those too..." He moves to lean over the counter, searching the Dining Hall with widened eyes underneath that ever-sinister mask. "Balloon Boy's gone. Still, keep that music box wound up. And here-" Jeremy suddenly removes his mask, revealing himself. His eyes are sunken deep, there's a massive scar running across his brow to the top of his skull. The man could be a little older than Mike yet he looked like he was in his fifties due to all the trauma. "Take this." Jeremy practically shoves the mask into Mike's chest. "It won't work on Foxy but it'll keep you safe from the others. Keep the music box wound up!"

His face is starting to attract some attention from the nearby guests, and Mike grows tense as a child cries out in surprise. He shoves the mask back at Jeremy forcibly. "I'll be fine. Keep it on," he asserts.

"But..."

"I don't need it," Mike growls. "Just put it back on."

Parents are beginning to whisper to their children in order to calm them. Jeremy stares at them, looking lost and confused, feeling the mask in his hands. The moment Freddy starts to laugh he quickly throws it back over his head. Mike is finally able to breathe like he doesn't have an elephant sitting on his chest.

"I'm sorry," Mike mutters. "I won't bother you again." He pushes himself away from the counter and walks off. He's flushed with embarrassment, guilty about harassing someone who's suffered from such a plight. What started as a simple request for contact information gave him far more than what he bargained for. Any and all of the information Jeremy gave him sounded unhinged. A bunch of mad rambling. Mike wasn't sure if any of it could be taken seriously.

He meets up with his friend again, who mentions how happy his daughter is. Mike gets a bit pale as she hugs Freddy. He reacts like a friendly mascot should however. He doesn't leer at anyone behind her back, he doesn't squeeze her too tightly. He just embraces her like family, with love and care. Jeremy might have lost more than his memory from that head injury. Maybe lack of sleep and ventilation got to his head last night. The way that guy talked about those animatronics was almost as if he believed they were malicious, which was impossible, really. They're just robots, programed to move and talk a certain way, nothing more.

_Yet he suddenly has a brief memory of a kid taking a Golden Freddy by the hand..._

A greasy paper bag stuffed with leftovers is plopped firmly on the desk at the office before the clock that reads 12:07AM. The lewd drawing is still up on the wall beside it, meaning the manager hasn't noticed it or simply didn't care. Instead of following his routine of unpacking food and entertainment he brandishes his flashlight and gleans over the monitor. Bonnie is already on the move, of course, but Chica is still in place. The curtain in Pirate's Cove is only barely parted, like someone accidentally brushed it during the day. He finds that Bonnie is just hanging out Backstage. Mike tries to take the tablet with him out the door. The moment he disconnects it from the wire, the feed is gone and the channel is down, meaning he can't take the monitor out of the office with him. He decides to leave it behind in favor of exploring the building.

He notices the posters on the wall, depicting Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica respectively. He then notices some newspaper clippings on the wall posted over the set of rules. The one on the very top reads_ 'Local pizzeria said to close by year's end'_. It's a very short article from 1975, which Mike finds interesting as he unpins it from the wall. He reads it to himself, realizing there are more clippings underneath it from the same year but a little older. He hears the sound of cirvos whirring and lights the corridor ahead to see Chica standing at the end of it, staring right at him with her beak wide open, exposing her endoskeleton. Keeping his eyes on her, he backs his way into his office again and turns the hall light on. Turning the left one on in case, he sees Bonnie near the door and shuts it. "I don't give two shits what the manager says," he hisses. He goes on to close the right door as well, leaving both lights on as he dedicates some time to the clippings.

Reading from the beginning this time, he realizes what this tragedy happens to be.

_"Two local children were reportedly lured into a back room..."_

_"...a man dressed as a cartoon mascot..."_

_"While the suspect has been charged, the bodies themselves were never found."_

_"Parents reportedly noticed what appeared to be blood and mucus around the eyes and mouths of the mascots."_

_"One parent alikened them to 'reanimated corpses'."_

_"These characters will live on..."_

_A woman screaming and crying at her child's funeral. You're sitting beside her and watching her with stinging, tearful eyes. The woman is your mother, and you want to calm her down, but the words are choking you and the tears are swelling up your vision until you cave into your own sorrows._

Back in the office Mike brushes away his tears with his sleeve, but his expression is hard, like he doesn't quite understand what he's feeling. He reads them over one last time and glances over at the monitor. Chica and Bonnie are closer to the stage now and Freddy is still in place as usual, only this time he swears that his head must have moved away from the camera just a bit. As he cycles through he suddenly has the hallucinations of Golden Freddy, the spectre from his memories, which cause him to stagger out of his chair.

He's sweating again, and he feels like he can barely breathe. He opens the right and left doors and takes in a large gasp of breath. He sits back in his chair, letting his eyes roam to the pile of tapes before he digs in for 'Night 3'. He curses to himself as Scott is talking, questioning his reason for persisting with this job. He's pacing with the tablet in his hands, walking tight circles in the tight office, and notices something odd about Pirate's Cove. Something is peering out from behind the curtain, which is now parted further. Another animatronic. He remembers this one standing on his own stage, singing some kind of shanty, dressed like a pirate. So he's real.

"Fucking animatronics," he growls, glancing at the articles. "Has to be..." He imagines them all, glowering at children as they glowered at him. He hears cirvos whirring again and closes both doors. "But if that's true, then how..." He suspects that the animatronics might have been committing all these murders themselves, whether or not they're actually possessed. Who's going to believe these things had minds of their own? Who's to say they aren't just programmed to kill? They're robots, aren't they? But that just means someone might be pulling their strings.

He starts to hear banging on the left door. Mike checks the cameras and sees that Bonnie and Chica aren't far, but they aren't at his door either. Freddy still hasn't moved either. He sneaks another peek at Pirate Cove and the curtains are fully parted and that _thing_ is missing. Mike backs away from the door and starts breathing very heavily. The pounding continues and he screws his eyes shut, trying to cut away some of the panic so he doesn't suffocate in the office as the air gets thinner by the second.

_Golden Freddy is kneeling down and delivering an over-enthused greeting to arriving guests ahead of you. You rolls your eyes. "This is so stupid," you complain, glaring at a younger boy beside you. You're both nearly the same height, and your voice is definitely boyish. The young one looks like he's only five or six while you might just be seven or eight._

_"Stop it, Mikey," the other whines. "I'll tell mom that you're being mean."_

_"Go ahead," you retort. "Maybe we can leave quicker. This place doesn't even have any good games!"_

_"I'm so sorry," the woman behind you says to Freddy, just before turning her attention to you again. _

_"The two of you better stop fighting. Mike, quit picking on your brother, or you won't be allowed to go on that trip with your friend you've been nagging me about all month."_

_"Mooom! This place is for babies!" you holler. "Why do I have to come?"_

_"Your dad works today, so there's no one at home to watch you. It's just a birthday party, Mike! You can behave for an hour, can't you?"_

_You and your brother enter the pizzeria, which looks massive, festive, certainly more or less familiar. The place is a little more pristine than you expect. There are four active animatronics and there's even one additional animatronic that moves differently from the others, and it looks sort of like a suit that someone might be wearing-the same one that greeted the entrants before you. All the animatronics are roaming but the golden one was far better at it than the others. His movements were more natural, if a bit clunky at worst. _

_Your brother is sitting with some friends while you're being forced to sit by him. You are all too clearly aware that you must be the oldest kid in the bunch and you're not proud of it. When Freddy comes by, you make a face at him behind his back. _

_Your brother implores you to stop._

_"He's just a big dumb bear," you say. "Or a man in a bear suit! Isn't that creepy?" You start to tease out of spite._

_"He's Freddy!" Your brother defends. "You should be nice to him. He's way bigger and stronger than you and he'll kick you out if you keep being mean to me."_

_"Yeah right!" To prove a point, you shove your younger brother. When he shoves back, you grab some of his cake and smear it on his face._

_He cries out in alarm, some of the kids at the table giggle at him. The Golden Freddy slides up to him and offers him a hand. "Oh dear!" Freddy says. "Let me help you get cleaned up. Then I can introduce you to the band!"_

_"Kick him out!" Your brother demands passionately, getting up from his chair to point accusingly at you. "You can do that, right? It's your house, isn't it?"_

_Golden Freddy looks to you, but his eyes...his eyes are almost human._

Mike is back in the arid office and back in his old body again, and Freddy is gone. Those eyes seemed to have burned themselves into his retinas however, because he feels like he can still see them when he opens his own.

The banging has stopped. He can only hear the soft humming of the desk fan now. "So much for the damn doors being a deterent," he mutters. The time reads 4AM. He still has two hours left to go and he wanders over to the monitor, tugging at his collar. He wants to check the cameras before opening either of the doors. Bonnie is in the Supply Closet, but Chica is nowhere to be found. There's a mangled looking shadow by the Cove's curtains, and the most alarming of all these developments is the absence of Freddy. "This is such bullshit," he mutters, opening the right door to get some air. The hall is still lit up, but it's clear.

He wipes his brow, gets himself put back together, and starts rifling through a file he left on the corner of his desk the night before. He finds Scott's personal information right there, clear as crystal, and is about to try using the phone on the desk when he remembers that it doesn't make outgoing calls. "What a piece of shit!" he hollers, slamming the phone back on the hook. "What was I supposed to do if the place caught fire, then? HUH?" He looks both halls over, which are empty still. He checks the camera and sees that Bonnie is still in the closet, but Chica is now in the East Hall. Foxy is still in the Cove, but he is in a different position even closer to the camera. Freddy is still nowhere to be seen.

"Damnit I can't do this anymore," he mutters to himself, clutching the tablet tightly. "If I make it out alive I can't...I can't come back."

He has another flash of hallucinations, this time with the words 'IT'S ME' flashing. Even when it settles every text in the entire room seems to read 'IT'S ME' over and over again, until Freddy's laughter alerts him to the East Hall, where Chica is leering through the window. Mike rapidly shuts the right door to prevent her from getting in. He moves towards the center of the office while checking the left hall repeatedly. During one of his turns he notices Chica has vanished. Sneaking a peek at his tablet, he sees she's back in the Dinning Hall. Freddy is now visible in the hall where the restrooms are located. Bonnie hasn't moved and neither has Foxy. Mike thinks it's better if he leaves the room, assuming that the door theory may be true and that the animatronics will leave him alone as long as he keeps it shut. This office becomes a broiler when both security doors are shut, but remembering that banging from earlier makes him wonder if it'll stop all of them...times like this he wished he simply took Jeremy's stupid mask after all.

He picks up the clippings and Scott's file and tapes, throwing everything into his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder. He prepares to go back into the East Hall so he can hide in the kitchen like before. Perhaps there he can wait it out until opening time. Carefully making his way down the hall he can see 'IT'S ME' here and there like easter eggs, randomly showing up in sentences or as grafitti on the walls and posters. He makes it to the kitchen without being intercepted and closes the door, using a nearby chair to baracade it. The lights won't come on when he toggles them, leaving him with only his flashlight as a light source.

The arcade booth at the edge of the kitchen suddenly comes to life, playing an 8-bit jingle as clunky graphics litter the screen. Mike is frozen, but after using the flashlight to make sure he's alone in the room he approaches the machine. A game title reads 'FIND HIM' with a crude pixel of Freddy bobbing underneath it. As soon as Mike takes hold of the joystick the game starts. Freddy appears on screen inside of what looks to be a simple maze of rooms. There are tables and other crude furnishing while the title 'Find Him' still reads above. Mike looks behind him, making sure he's still alone, and feels compelled to play. He approaches a table and hits the trigger button. A message reading 'Not Here...' appears on the bottom of the screen. So it's a hide and seek kind of game?

He approaches another furnishing and hits the trigger button...

_"He's not here, ma'am," an officer tells your mother. "We've searched the place thoroughly. We're afraid he might be in danger."_

_Your mother is sobbing, but she demands that the search resumes. The officer tries to console her, reassuring that they will do anything in their power to make sure your brother is found within 48 hours. _

_"What if he took him?" she cries. "What if he has my baby?"_

_"WHAT IF HE HAS MY BABY?!"_

_"Mom...?"_

_You tug at her shirt, eyes glossy, staring listlessly at her. "Mom...?"_

_Her hysterics don't cease as you try to get her attention. Even though a part of you wants to stay, your feet are wandering as you put some distance between yourself and your mother. You feel disconnected, more so by the second. You're drifting away, until all you can hear are her sobs far behind you. All you can feel is guilt and shame swelling inside you. All you can see is the cement beneath you. The weight of something terrible is buried within._

Mike's watch starts to sound and he's realizing that the screen on the arcade block is black, the machine is dead. His eyes remain wide however, stunned with the realization that his brother might have been a victim of the Missing Children Incident in '75.


	4. Night 4: The Investigation

_"...you'll be expected to wear the temporary costumes provided to you. Keep in mind that they were found on very short notice, so questions about appropriateness/relevance should be deflected. I repeat, the classic suits are not to be touched, activated or worn. That being said, we are free of liability, do as you wish. As always, remember to smile; you are the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza." _

Scott's voice can be heard playing in a dark, unkempt room. Mike is sitting by the desk, falling asleep over a stack of newspapers. His eyes are sunken in, his body lethargic. He hasn't slept in a good thirty-six hours. Closer inspection of the papers reveal stories that follow the disappearances and discoveries of the five missing children. A picture of the prime suspect is seen, but another headline tells of his recent meeting with the electric chair. The digital clock reads 3:46PM.

Mike picks up the phone and starts dialing a number from one of the files he took, notably Scott's number. The phone rings but nobody answers. He hangs it back up and starts scratching at the back of his head. He picks up the phone again but hesitates and puts it back down. Every movement he makes seems to take a tremendous effort.

After a thirty minute snooze his phone rings and he groggily looks up from a nap. He picks it up.

"Hello? Is this Mr. Schmidt?" a woman's voice asks.

"Yes, um...sorry, who is this?"

"You left a message for Fritz. He no longer lives here though, sorry. You're not...a-are you a friend of his?"

"Not exactly," Mike responds carefully, noting the hesitation. "I kinda need his help. He used to work for Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria in '87 and-"

"Is that what this is about? It's over," the woman interrupts, her tone defensive. "They caught the guy behind the murders, didn't they? They executed him and everything. I've told you a thousand time already-Fritz doesn't live here and I've said all I had to say. Nothing has changed so please, leave us alone."

"Please, do you know how I can reach him? I'm not with the police; I work at the pizzeria. I'm having trouble with the animatronics. I think they've been tampered with...and maybe years ago."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Schmidt, but I have no idea where he is or where to find him. He just suddenly left everything and everyone behind and nobody has heard from him in years. Look...I told the police I'd let them know if anything changed, but I swear I have nothing to offer. I want him found too. But if this is about work, then I can at least give you the number for the maintenance company he used to work for."

"Please. And thanks."

After a brief lapse of time, she returns to the phone and leaves a number with him. He sloppily jots it down. He thanks her again and hangs up before dialing the new number. The phone rings for a while, and just as Mike is about to give up, someone picks up. "Thank you for calling the Division of Maintenance and Repairs at Benson's Engineering," a nasaly voice drones. "Do you have your party's extension number?"

"No um...I'm actually calling to inquire about a former employee."

"We don't divulge records on previous employees, sir."

"Yeah I guess, well, I'm calling on behalf of my boss. He's the manager at Fazbear's Pizzeria. We're having some technical issues with the animatronics and Fritz Smith used to do repairs for us."

"Well, we don't have a Mr. Smith on staff but if you hold for a moment I can connect you to your current district's mechanical engineer."

"Sure, that'll work." An option's an option.

Mike waits as a tune plays, falling asleep on the phone until a smooth voice wakes him. "Hello, Maintenance and Repairs, Vincent speaking. How may we be of service?"

Straightening out, Mike clears his throat and responds. "Right, I'm calling about the animatronics at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. I work the night shift and I don't think they're safe. I tried calling the old mechanic but I can't seem to reach him."

"Fritz, huh?"

"Yeah, that's him. You wouldn't happen to have any way of reaching him, would you? I need to ask him a few questions."

"It's not necessary ah, my apologies, who am I speaking to?"

"Mike Schmidt."

"Mike. Let me assure you that the animatronics in that particular location are as harmless as 400 pound hunks of metal can get. Just don't tip it over on yourself, obviously," he says with a chuckle. "How long have you been working there, might I ask?"

"...Three days."

"I see. I thought so. I received a call about a week ago from one of the night guards. Scott, I believe? I came by and checked it out personally. They were in full working order when I last inspected them."

Mike lowers his voice. "I think he, or _someone,_ might have tampered with them."

The man on the other end of the line hums thoughtfully. "That's a serious accusation, Mike. Though...it's possible he threw them off accidentally. They're very easy to disorientate. By the way, is he still there?"

"Who...Scott?"

"That's correct."

"No. He left right before I got hired. I never had a chance to speak to him. I already tried to call him several times." Mike's patience is being taxed at this point.

"I see." There's a five second pause. "Mike, I'm afraid I'm booked for tonight, but I may be available tomorrow evening. You should try getting a hold of Scott if you can. As for Fritz, I'm afraid I can't help you. He left the company just as abruptly as your predecessor did. I believe he even worked at the old franchise location for a day to cover for somebody. I heard he was fired for fiddling with the animatronics himself too. Fancy that."

Mike's fingers drum on the desk. He is not excited about going back to the pizzeria. He'd rather drop this investigation altogether but for some reason he feels his brother's life is at stake all over again. "Do you...know about the missing children in the seventies?"

The man on the other end lets out a small chuckle. "You mean the costumed killer who used to work at Fazbear's way back. Oh, we're familiar. We had to remodel the animatronics and scrap the suits when they discovered where those kids bodies were stuffed. You don't think your friends Scott and Fritz had anything to do with that, now do you?"

"I don't know..." Mike is too tired to realize the kind of conversation he's having with a service provider. "But if the real killer hasn't been caught, it could be possible that he's using the animatronics to carry out his work. If he knows how to fix them then he probably knows how to remote control them or something. You said it yourself too...Fritz was fired for tampering with them. Maybe he was making adjustments."

"He does seem like prime-suspect material," Vincent muses. "But I'm not a detective. As a mechanic I'll be of much better service to you. Now then, let's make an appointment. And...do us both a favor-don't tell your boss about it. If I remember correctly, he's quite the cheapskate. If he finds out about this now you can probably kiss your job goodbye."

"You're going to bill him eventually, aren't you?"

"If something is wrong, I'll just settle for what he owes me from last week's visit. Be a pal and give me a chance to double-check my work, eh? No one has to know."

"Yeah...alright. Let's do it."

After taking a few minutes to decide on the time, the phonecall is over. Mike hangs it up and takes the tape out of the player and sets it aside. There's a large stack next to a sole tape without a label. He sticks it into the tape player curiously. It's the only one he hasn't listened to yet.

_"Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow, day 4. I knew you could do it._

_Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow. *banging sound* It's-It's been a bad night here for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you *clears throat* uh, when I did._

_Uh, hey, do me a favor. *bang bang* Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the back room? *bang bang* I'm gonna to try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won't be so bad. *bang bang* Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there. *chime plays*._

_You know...*moan* oh, no -"_

The jarring sound of screeches and grinding metal erupt immediately after, followed by mellow static. The tape continues to run in silence. It leaves Mike looking particularly grim by the end.

He arrives at the pizzeria near closing time. As soon as he walks in he smells something awful and covers his nose. The manager is talking to one of the customers, who is currently maybe one of two left in the building. He is apologizing and trying to offer coupons and discounts while the customer is unmoved, demanding some sort of refund. Mike keeps his distance until the woman leaves.

"What's that smell?" Mike asks. His eyes are starting to tear up from the sheer power of that stench.

"No idea," the manager nearly barks. He looks very pale and sickly, like he's about to vomit. "It's been stinking up the place since this afternoon! Customers think it's a dead rat or something-threatening to call the health department too. Goddamned rats."

"Did you find it?"

"Of course not! We've been turning the entire stage over looking for it. Can't even tell where it's coming from! No amount of this shit is worth a damn,' he adds, shaking a can of air freshener in his hand. "Now it just smells like the evil dead attended a pizza party in here! I'll pay you a little extra if you find it tonight. I'll throw in a bag of tokens for your buddy if you dispose of it. Ugh-Excuse me."

The manager excuses himself to go to the restrooms. Mike looks to the stage where Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica are idly glancing about, taking a break from playing now that the last of the customers are starting to leave. Mike decides to head up to the stage, striding past the animatronics stiffly. They don't acknowledge him as he enters the Backstage.

The smell is clearly worse here. Mike looks at all the parts and can tell that some of them have been moved around, but a great effort wasn't exactly taken to find the source. He sees Jeremy looking at all the masks with something akin to understanding. Hell, with his on, he looks like he's right at home.

"Hey, Jeremy."

"Oh, sorry," he turns about to face Mike. "Are you lost?"

"No I...I'm just waiting for my shift to start. Listen...do you think..."

"It smells terrible back here," he interrupts, turning to the shelves again.

"Yeah..."

"Like a rotting corpse."

"You think?"

"Maybe they got to Scott after all."

Mike stares at Jeremy, who just uttered that sentence so casually that it failed to register immediately. "Maybe." He looks to the heads on the upper counter, remembering the last thing Scott said on the unlabeled tape. "Why is this happening? Why hasn't anybody been able to stop it?" He was talking mostly to himself, so he was caught unawares when Jeremy responded.

"They won't stop until they catch him."

"Who?"

"The children."

Mike remains silent. He wonders briefly just how brain damaged Jeremy might be-how much of his words are truth or fantasy. "They said you were working the night shift for a week. Why did you stay?"

'They told me I'd be promoted soon.'

"That's it?"

"No. I learned something too."

"About the five children?"

"Six."

Mike pauses, but Jeremy doesn't continue. "What did you learn about the six children?"

"They won't rest until they catch the man that killed them."

Mike looks past Jeremy for a moment, focusing on the back of the animatronics on the other side of the curtain. They aren't moving at all.

"So you are implying that...the animatronics are haunted."

"I know they are. They told me. The Purple Man is responsible."

At this point Mike looks incredulous. "Who's that supposed to be?"

"Who's...who? I'm sorry. Guests are not allowed backstage. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Jeremy, who is the Purple Man?" Mike implores.

"The Purple Man? How do you know about him?"

"I need to know who he is. Is he still at large?"

"I don't know," he admits. "But...the mechanic..."

"Which mechanic?"

"I can't remember his name."

"TRY."

"Smith...I think."

"What about him?"

"He was going to cover the night shift tonight. If you need to talk to him he'll be here in a few hours. I-I have to go."

Jeremy ducks his head and makes his way past Mike, swinging down from the stage and moving briskly for the manager. Mike decides to turn his attention to the heads on the shelves again, but only for a moment before going after Jeremy. If they had looked closely enough, they might have noticed the hand-print on the cheeks of a spare Freddy mask, painted in oxidized brown.

Later, that night-Mike is sitting in the office with both of the doors shut, looking over the monitor. The lewd drawing is missing. Bonnie and Chica are out and about, Foxy is staying behind his curtain, and Freddy is nowhere to be seen. He's sweating profusely, thinking very hard to himself and muttering occasionally as the clock reads 12:30AM. He reassures himself that tomorrow this would all be straightened out, one way or another. He peeks to the Backstage camera and his eyes linger on it for a while. He's not even sure if calling the police would help at this point, but he's convinced this smell doesn't belong to a rodent. It has to be something much larger to stink up the entire pizzeria like this.

He opens the left door when Foxy is still behind the curtain, grabs his flashlight, and moves quickly and quietly through the hall towards the back. He sees Bonnie in the Dinning Hall and keeps his eyes on him while he moves into the Backstage room. He proceeds to close the door, check the room, and close the other door. The smell is overwhelming. Mike can hardly breathe as he tries to detect the source of the smell.

As he's checking, he hears Freddy's voice outside the room. Hesitating, he approaches the door closest to the source of sound and listens. He sounds like he's reciting the usual banter-nothing out of the ordinary, until what sounds like Freddy's voice says Mike's name in particular.

Mike freezes and puts his body against the door, letting some time pass as he listens carefully. He can hear cirvos whirring close, then it fades. He backs away from the door and turns the flashlight to the shelves. A loud knocking on the south door startles him. Whatever is on the other side is attacking the door hard for a good few seconds. Once it subsides, Mike peeks out the east door. He sees nothing in the Dining Hall and decides to move towards the East Hall. Hiding in the shadows just behind the door as Mike leaves the Backstage area, eyes light up after he passes. Mike is going down the hall when he catches Chica in position moving towards him from the Office. He's about to turn around when Freddy is right behind him. Mike ducks into the kitchen and closes the door, expecting a struggle but hearing and experiencing no such thing.

He quickly checks the kitchen for animatronics, but he merely sees the arcade machines. The one that wasn't on the last time is now active, the game it displays is different. Jeremy mentioned that the children were trying to show him something. The machines are both clearly disconnected, but functional somehow. Mike props a stool against the doorknob and then goes over to the lit machine.

The first game displayed also features Freddy, only it is under the title 'SAVE THEM'. After spending a good ten minutes running into dead ends, engaging with the other animatronics, and wandering aimlessly, he sees a new character that he can easily describe as a 'Purple Man'. Apparently, the player cannot save anyone, at least according to it.

The games become more macabre in time. Even though the graphics are extremely simple, Mike nearly feels as if he's personally in these situations.

He becomes a puppet fixated on saving the lives of four, no, five dead children.

He becomes an ancient and forgotten mascot who is corrupted by the horrors committed just outside his doors.

He sees the man responsible, the very same guy, over and over again like a foul premonition.

A while after playing the games, Mike is slumped up by the door, eyes half open but possibly asleep. Golden Freddy is sitting on one of the tables right before him, completely slumped over as if watching him. Outside, Freddy is standing with his back to the door, head down as if inactive. The crude drawing is in his grip.

_"Why didn't you kick him out, Freddy?"_

_Your younger brother is being lead down a hall by Golden Freddy, as you can see from behind. They are headed for what looks like the bathrooms, but the bear walks past them. Your brother hesitates, but follows. As the viewer, you also appear to hesitate and seek cover behind some cleaning supplies._

_"If I kicked your brother out, do you think your mommy would allow you to stay?" Freddy responds._

_"Uh...I guess not. But if the party is almost over then I guess we're going to go home anyways. I just want to see him kicked out in front of everyone. He's such a butthead."_

_Their voices are starting to trail off. You start to follow again._

_"What if I told you there's a much better party waiting for you? What if it's even more fun than this one?"_

_"There is?"_

_"Of course! I saved all my best games for you. If I brought them out earlier, your mean ol' brother would have gotten more than he deserved, don't you think? In fact, there's a secret party going on in that room over there, and I think you're just what we've been looking for!"_

_"Me? But why?"_

_"The way you stood up to your big brother! We could use someone like you. The others would love to be your friend. We're going to throw the party in your honor."_

_"Maybe I should ask my mom first..."_

_Your brother hesitates when they reach a closed room. He is somewhat wary, and now so are you._

_"Don't worry about your mommy. Freddy will talk to her for you. Why don't you wait in here for now? There's a nifty towel in there that you can clean yourself off with. The bathroom is much cleaner too."_

_Your brother looks down, Freddy takes him by the hand, and leads him into the room. He closes the door behind him, you dart across to the restrooms before he turns around. Golden Freddy walks back into the dining area and you come out and head towards the room. The door is stuck, but it appears to lock from the outside and you unlatch it. The door is very heavy as you push it and inch your way inside._

_"Greg?" your voice utters._

_"Mikey! What are you doing back here?" Greg pipes up. He sounds pretty tense. "You're not allowed!"_

_The room is dressed nicely, though it is an employee lounge area. A gold version of Bonnie is standing in the corner looking brand new, but maybe not fully built. Other than that, the room is somewhat spacious if a bit bland. There's another door open to a tiny half-bathroom. There are no windows._

_"I..." you can't seem to remember until it springs on you. "I'm sorry about putting cake all over you."_

_"You're just saying that because mom told you to."_

_"So?" you say defensively. "At least I'm not going to a secret party without telling mom."_

_"You're not supposed to be back here," Greg implores. "Freddy said you're not allowed."_

_"Who cares about that! You're going to be in big trouble if mom finds out you ran away. I'm not going to be here all day just because you love that stupid bear so much."_

_"He's not stupid!" Greg whines back. "You are! You always have to mess up everything! You always want to have it your way!"_

_"That's not true!"_

_"Yes it is! You won't let me have any fun!"_

_"That's not true! Maybe if you actually did anything fun I wouldn't be complaining!"_

_"Mike, go away."_

_"You're coming back outside with me."_

_"I don't wanna!"_

_"We shouldn't be back here!"_

_"I don't wanna!"_

_You both freeze when you hear heavy steps outside the door. "You better hide," Greg whispers. "If Freddy catches you, we'll both be in trouble."_

_You decide to duck behind some old equipment, covering yourself in a table cloth just as someone enters the room. You can only hear what is going on at this point, too afraid to be caught watching._

_"So did mom say yes?"_

_"She didn't say no!" Freddy said in a friendly voice. Almost too friendly. He sounded eeriely excited now._

_"Is it okay...if my brother comes too?"_

_"Come now, after all the terrible things he said to you? This game will be much more fun without him."_

_"O-okay."_

_It's a little silent for a while. For what feels like way too long._

_"Where is everyone...?" Greg asks apprehensively._

_There's a brief scuffle. You can vaguely hear kids screaming down the hall, but the walls must be thickly lined because it sounds like they're miles away. Cheering loudly, all of them. Your brother isn't saying anything anymore though. You have to peek. You have to see what's going on._

_Just as you find a tiny opening through the tablecloth, you hear your brother cry softly. "Freddy what...what are you doing?_

_"Shhh..."_

_The voice has changed. It's like Freddy's but not. It sounds like a man, rather than a vibration emitted from a soundbox. You can't see him very well and you're too afraid to expose anymore of yourself. Something is not right here._

_"We're going to play a little game. Can you guess who I am?"_

_That voice._

_It's so..._

_"Guess"_

_"Guess who?"_

_Oh god. Your brother's crying._

_"Come on, guess who?"_

_He's nearly hysterical now._

_**"It's me!"**_

_**"That's right!"**_

_**"IT'S ME!"**_

_Suddenly, there's so much blood. Gurgling, pools, a limp, tiny body falling limply to the floor. Your brother's eyes have no life in them. You have no voice with which to scream. You're paralyzed. Your heart is beating so hard that you're afraid he'll find you. Your world goes white as you fade away from consciousness._


	5. Night 5: Reanimated Secrets Pt1

Mike is startled awake when a lady dropping silverware when she discovers him sleeping against the wall in the kitchen. There's a little bit of light pouring in from the window. He doesn't get up right away and just stares after the woman as she leaves the kitchen. He doesn't move while she's gone. His mind is completely clouded over. She returns with the manager maybe seconds later, when it feels like days have gone by.

"Christ, Mike. You look like hell! What happened to you?"

Mike doesn't respond right away, but eventually he meets his manager's eyes.

"Did something happen last night? Did you find the...you know."

"No. Too dark."

"Yeah, yeah I figured. Wow, you look terrible! I can have Anna take you to a doctor. Are you feeling sick or something?"

Mike thinks on it a bit, then shakes his head. He's suddenly more animated now. His speech is slightly slurred as he rambles on an explanation. "No, it's fine. I'm fine. I thought I saw someone moving into the kitchen and the camera wasn't working so I had to check it out. I was...I guess I came in and...I dunno. I can't remember, really." But he could. He knows exactly what happened and he's reluctant to mention it. He's weary enough to sound believable though. The manager nods in understanding.

"Probably hit your head on something. Or passed out! I thought you looked a bit run down yesterday. Happens to the best of them. Hey! Make sure you get some sleep today! We've got a big day tomorrow. Huge party! Exactly what this place needs! And don't worry about that rat-I'm sure Anna or Jeremy will find it before we open up. Still smells like a corpse in here though, doesn't it?" He pats Mike on the shoulder before offering him a hand up.

"Get some sleep," the manager asserts.

Mike nods weakly, back on his feet though barely. He takes a second to straighten out before looking the manager dead in the eye. "If there's something you should tell me, I'd like to know before I clock in tonight."

The manager's brow furrows. "What are you talking about now?"

Mike looks away, suddenly despondent. "Nothing. See you tonight."

He moves past him and the lady as he leaves the kitchen. On his way towards the front door he looks back at Freddy and the gang. The only one meeting his gaze is Freddy while the other two are gazing off in other directions. Then he turns and leaves.

Later, he is startled awake by a rapport on the door. Mike sits up and stares for a bit, noticing that light is still visible from outside through his blinds. He got maybe four hours of sleep. When the knocking persists, getting louder by the second, he finally gets some pants on and calls out that he's on his way.

Upon answering the door, two men in suits are waiting for him outside. One already has his badge in hand while the other is simply drawing aside his blazer to show off the one next to the gun on his holster.

"Is this the residence of a Mike Schmidt?"

"Speaking."

"I'm Officer Steillos, this is my partner, Officer Lawrence. We have a few questions we'd like to ask you about your place of employment. May we discuss this inside?"

Mike nods and lets them both in, closing the door after them. "Sorry about the mess," he says, motioning to the couch. There's an empty pizza box, a backpack, and a set of clothes tossed onto it. "Give me a minute."

After setting the stuff aside, he pulls up a chair and offers the couch to the officers. They seem to notice that he's pretty tired, but they're already drawing their notepads and pens, taking their seats casually. Steillos starts talking, and does most of the talking for the two of them in general.

"You started working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria on November 7th of this year, is that correct?"

"Yeah, started Monday."

"Have you ever worked at any of the other Freddy's locations? Or Fredbear's Family Diner?"

"The Diner? No. Neither"'

"Did you know a Scott Nohtcaw, Mr. Schmidt?"

"Sort of. I've never met him personally, but I know he's the guy who worked my shift before I did."

"Have you seen or heard from him at all?"

"I haven't seen him but...my manager left me some instructional tapes that Scott supposedly made while he was working there. I finished listening to them yesterday." Mike is getting a little nervous now, feeling guilty about not informing the police about the Night tapes earlier. If they found out about the nature of those tapes, would Mike feel the heat for keeping them to himself? They must be here about him if they're asking about him particularly. Maybe though...maybe he's a suspect instead of a victim.

"Do you still have those tapes?" the Officer asked.

"Yeah, in that bag. If you let me get my Walkman real quick one of you can listen to them now. They're audio only." Mike feels numb all over as he gets up and moves for the bag, but the officer interrupts him.

"If you don't mind, Mr. Schmidt, my partner would like to retrieve the tapes himself."

"Am I in trouble?" Mike can't help but ask.

"Not yet, Mr. Schmidt. That all depends on you. Lawrence?"

The other officer gets up and starts going through the backpack. He finds the tapes and starts extracting them one by one. Meanwhile Steillos is producing a tape recorder from his coat. Makes sense that he'd have one handy in his line of work. They line up the tapes, Mike insists that he helps them set them in order, and they all start listening-starting with the instructionals. "These tapes are probably older," he comments while they play. The officers are sitting forward in their seats, probably ignoring him. They both seem far more interested in Scott's tone than the message itself. It's all understandable. What previously struck Mike as a dark sense of humor might be anything but. A warning, from years and years ago. But if Scott knew he was in danger, then why did he stay?

Mike knew why he did. If his brother was truly bound to that terrible place and his murderer was still active, he had to set whatever he could right.

As they cleared the instructionals and moved on to the 'Night' tapes, the officers changed their posture slightly. Stellios looked up at Mike a couple of times, as if silently asking the million dollar question. Once the fourth tape ended, Lawrence leaned back while Steillos wound his hands together thoughtfully.

"How long have you kept these tapes to yourself?"

"I...ugh. Maybe...two days? I took them home on Wednesday. I only finished listening to them yesterday."

"And did you tell anybody about them?"

Mike was breaking out into a cold sweat all over. "I thought it was a joke! The manager gave me these tapes when I started working there! I assumed he must have listened to them first!"

"This isn't a joke, Schmidt. Mr. Nohtcaw is dead," Lawrence said bluntly.

The room got a lot quieter, with every tiny tick and tap echoing in the silence at three times the proper volume. Scott is dead. Every call he made was to a dead man. They would never be answered, and now perhaps none of his questions ever will be. Greg is dead and nobody is left alive that can save them now.

"What happened to him...?" Mike barely croaks.

"He was found at the pizzeria, backstage. Some sick fuck stuffed his face into one of those spare Freddy heads," Stellios explained. "Lucky for you, you're not a suspect. Your story checks out, but I'm afraid you've been withholding evidence. That's no small crime."

"I didn't know!" Mike's voice is panic now, sheer and unyielding. "Please, I swear!"

"It doesn't matter, Schmidt. It is what it is," Stellios said, leaning back a bit. "But we're willing to drop any and all charges if you are willing to cooperate with us."

"C-cooperate?"

"We believe the person responsible either works at the pizzeria or uses it as a base of operations for other nefarious purposes. The place has quite a history. It doesn't seem like much of a coincidence that the night guard was attacked on duty, so while we're on the subject, have you seen any suspicious activity during your shifts this week?"

Mike looks down, deciding that he should tell the truth rather than sink into hot water. Like Vincent said...a detective is far better suited to catching a criminal. Even if they did fail the first time around.

"The animatronics have been acting up. I started to think they were hostile when they would come to me night after night. One of them even bangs on the doors if I try to lock myself up."

The two detectives spare a glance at one another before Lawrence speaks. "Are all of them acting strangely?"

"Yes, but mostly the fox." They probably think he's losing it. He sure felt like he was. "I called in maintenance yesterday...before I came in and noticed the smell and I thought...maybe Scott..."

"We're going to be frank with you, Schmidt," Steillos interrupted, leaning forward. "We want to catch this son of a bitch once and for all. We knew about the odor yesterday through an anonymous tip. We've been watching the pizzeria for any and all suspicious activity without making our presence especially known. This prick is a monster, but a smart one. We believe if you work the shift tonight as if nothing happened, he might make a return."

"Y-you're...going to use me as bait?"

"We need to keep the constants constant," Steillos clarified. "Most of these psychos are creatures of habit. There's a good chance he will return to the scene of the crime if he doesn't think the risk is too high."

"Is that even legal?"

"It's more of a necessary evil," Lawrence adds, waving a hand in the air. "You'll be well protected. There will be at least three or four officers in the area with their eyes on you."

Mike folds his arms, uncomfortable with this idea. He was going to go into work tonight anyways, but the way all of this was beginning to unfold, he almost sensed he was even more danger than he was before. What if there was an actual flesh-and-blood killer using the pizzeria at night? With the way Foxy moves so swiftly from one place to the next, it's not impossible to believe that someone is using its parts as a disguise. "So you want me to just go into work tonight as if nothing changed?"

"Just tonight," Steillos confirmed. "You'll be free to go from there and do whatever you please. You should probably start looking for another job. I doubt the place will survive another controversy like this."

Mike nods weakly. "What about the mechanic? He's supposed to pass by tonight."

"What's his name?"

"Vincent. I didn't get a last name."

Lawrence seems to write the name down while Stellios seems to dwell on it. "Do you know what he looks like?" he asks.

"No. I just talked to him over the phone. He works for Benson's Engineering."

Lawrence proceeds to jot that down as Steillos prepares to get up. "Well, we'll be expecting him," he concludes. "Lawrence? Got all that?"

His partner nods.

"Excellent. Well Schmidt, we won't be taking up any more of your time. When you come to work tonight, just act casual. If anyone stops you, just tell them you're under orders. Our people will understand."

He reaches to shake Mike's hand, as does Lawrence. They leave just as abruptly as they had shown up, leaving Mike with a bitter, sick feeling in his gut. As exhausted as he is, he feels that sleep with be yet another luxury he simply can't afford right now.

Like the detectives said, there is nothing suspect about the surrounding area when Mike arrives at the pizzeria. Twilight has long since passed and the lot is completely empty save for his own vehicle. It looks like Vincent might be late. Maybe the cops intercepted him in order to explain things, which only unsettled him even further. At least earlier he was able to comfort himself with the notion that he wouldn't be alone inside the pizzeria. With a killer. Four of them actually, if the animatronics are under his sway. He briefly wondered if they went as far as leaving Scott's remains in the backroom to maintain appearances. That had to be beyond unethical if it were true.

It still smelled like a crypt inside. Mike locked up behind him and froze the moment he noticed how close Freddy was already. He was standing to the left, obscured in shadow as his eyes broke the dark with an ominous glow. "Mi...key," the voicebox forced with an eerie drone. "Mike...y."

Mike instinctively backed away in horror, limbs as heavy as concrete. Freddy didn't move. He just repeated his name, about five seconds in between. "G-greg?" he managed.

"Mike...y."

A heavy hand fell on Mike's shoulder. He ducks away before Bonnie's massive fingers can grasp him properly. "HUHHA! LET'S PLAY!" he cheers. Chica's eyes flash from across the room as she lets out a hearty "LET'S EAT!".

Too terrified to think straight, Mike is running down the hall for his life, making straight for the office in blind terror. He can hear heavy steps behind him, but he's putting them all in the dust at his pace. He makes it to the office in time to slam his fist down on both buttons. The two steel doors fall with a fast, satisfactory response.

Before he has enough time to properly catch his breath, the phone starts ringing. If he had eaten at all that day, Mike would have probably thrown up. He shakily reaches for the phone, expecting an officer to be on the other line. "H-hello? Hello?!"

"Mike?"

"Who is this!"

"It's Vincent. Are you...okay? You sound incredibly jumpy this evening."

"Where are you?"

"I'm outside. Payphone across the street. Where are you? Inside?"

"C-clearly," Mike chokes out sarcastically. He's in no mood to be civil.

"Fantastic. I'm going to need you to let me inside, though. I don't have a key."

Mike wanted to ask if the police talked to him yet, but if this was supposed to be a trap for the killer, the less anybody else knew about it the better. If Vincent didn't know it had to be for good reason. "I'll be there in a minute. Just wait for me, please?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'M FINE, JUST PLEASE. GIVE ME A MINUTE."

"Sheesh, fine. See you soon."

Hanging up, Mike runs a hand over his head, taking his cap off and looking to the window. Chica is just standing out there, mouth agape. On the other side of him, in the left hall, a shape is obscuring the light. They have him cornered now. "Damnit...not now. Please, not now..." On the monitor, Freddy is by the restrooms. Foxy is already poking his head out from behind the curtain. Mike tries to stare harder, trying to catch the sight of a man either inside or behind that curtain. "He's here," he mutters, his nose practically buried into the screen. "Goddamnit SHOW YOURSELF!"

He hears what sounds like a child's laughter. Mike turns around and sees Golden Freddy in the corner, limp and nearly lifeless aside from that lingering gloom that something must be present. Without thinking, Mike lifts his leg to give the animatronic a hard kick to the head, but he falls right through it when it vanishes from sight. He stumbles nearly falling over completely but catching himself on a nearby cabinet. The laughter ensues once more. Golden Freddy is sitting on his desk.

"Fuck this!"

Mike barrels into the switch on the right door, rolling through the exit and charging right at Chica. He's able to pass her without getting caught, but he doesn't slow down at all as he makes for the entrance. There he is, standing outside patiently. A man, probably in his late-fourties judging by the voice and silvery hair but in decent shape for someone his age. It's hard to make out much else in such terrible lighting conditions, aside from the fact that he's in uniform. Mike scrambles for the key, looking back every few seconds. Once he has the right key he has to jam it into the door two or three times before he can turn it properly. Instead of letting Vincent in however, he comes outside and closes the door behind him and leans on it to catch his breath.

"So you're fine," Vincent jeers sarcastically, folding his arms.

Suddenly Mike feels seriously ill. He assumes it's the stress and the lack of sleep. These last several hours have probably taken years off his life. He doesn't dignify Vincent with a response, dry-heaving instead.

Vincent moves towards the door, pressing his face against the window as he tries to get a peek inside. "What are you running from?" he muses, asking no one in particular. "I see Freddy, but...hm."

Mike is coughing, hands on his knees as he tries to recover some strength.

"Who called the police?"

Between coughs, Mike begins to raise his head and straighten out slightly. "What?"

"Hm, just wondering."

"I don't know," Mike manages before coughing a few more times. "Where?"

"There are a couple of units stationed down the block. Couldn't help but notice."

"Yeah well-" one strong cough later. "I didn't." He doesn't know.

"So it's that bad, huh?"

"You have...no idea."

Vincent steps back from the door, waiting on Mike at this point. "Let's get to it, then," he shrugs.

It takes a minute before Mike is ready to jump back into the trenches again, but now that he has someone else involved he feels that his resolve has grown. He opens the door, allowing the mechanic in. While Vincent is shuffling inside, Mike takes the opportunity to look down the street. There's one black car parked on the opposite side of the road maybe 500ft away. He spies the silhouette of someone sitting in the front seat. For all intensive purposes, he should be safe, but he certainly doesn't feel that way. He reluctantly retreats into the pizzeria.

Vincent is standing perfectly still, not having gone far from the entrance. His eyes are on Freddy, who has also appeared to acknowledge his presence. The two are both caught in a stare-off. Mike is unwittingly holding his breath.

"Mike," he says. His voice is completely calm. Level. This does not bode well. "I need you to come with me. Stay right behind me. Watch my back."

The words would have paralyzed him if he hadn't gone through the seven stages of holy shit by now. Mike immediately obeys, privately relieved that he is no longer alone in this nightmare.

Vincent shuffles to the left, keeping to the wall of the Dining Area as his eyes remain on Freddy. Freddy's eyes follow them, but he doesn't move. They never move their bodies while you're watching them, but that doesn't mean they can't. Mike knows full well that at least one of them can move like a human being, and it isn't shy about tearing any doors down if it has to. Vincent leads them to a corner before tapping his knuckles on the wall. A hollow sound is emitted.

"The safe room?" The instructional mentioned one. Mike could only guess this was what they were looking for.

"The animatronics can't see it," Vincent whispers back. "But they will keep looking for us. They'll know we're around here somewhere."

He takes a hammer out of his backpack and steps back before going to town on the wall. Mike can hear the sound of footsteps drawing near. The same heavy ones that could belong to Chica or Bonnie. "They're coming."

"Almost got it."

Now there are a rapid set of footsteps joining them. "Vincent! He's coming!"

"Almost. Got. IT! Come on!"

Vincent slides in through the gap in the wall he created, falling through to the other side. Mike follows quickly, but he feels a sharp pain in his leg when something sharp is buried into his calf. Something is pulling him back the other way. "FUCK! HELP! HE'S GOT ME! FUCK!"

Crouching down, Vincent tries to pull Mike in through the hole, but with every tug the guard cries out in pain. "HIS HOOK! IT'S IN MY LEG!"

"Sorry Mike!" Vincent puts a foot up on the wall, takes hold of Mike's flailing arm with both hands, and pulls with all his might. The two both fall inside the safe room in a heap.

It's pitch black in the room, only the sound of heavy breathing and whimpering impregnates the arid space before a brillian beam cuts the darkness. Vincent has a powerful flashlight in hand, and he's using it to scope the room. It's small, but it still dwarfs the office. Hell, everything does. There's enough space for a couple more defunct arcade machines and something else. Something that makes Mike stagger back despite the burning and stinging pain in his leg. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!"

The light is shined upon it. It looks like Bonnie, actually. Kind of like the Bonnie in his dream, with yellow fur instead of purple. Unlike the other animatronics, this one doesn't appear to have any life to it at all. "It's just an old hybrid," Vincent explained. "It's dead."

Mike still stares it down, suspecting the worst until the pain reminds him of his current state. A steady stream of blood is flowing out of the wound. Vincent is pulling some cloth out of his bag now with the intention of wraping it up.

"So, what do you think?" Mike manages, bracing himself, trying not to think about how much blood he's losing by the second. "They're not okay, are they?"

"Anything but," Vincent admits, preparing the rag. "They're compromised. It's too dangerous to try repairing them while they're active. Hold still."

Without flinching, Vincent is able to wrap the wound and secure it. Mike is trying hard not to squirm, but the pain is incredible.

"We should call the police," Mike says through his teeth. "It's too dangerous. Those things are too strong. The murderer can still-eugh! Get inside!"

"Let's worry about the animatronics first." Vincent drops his bag and proceeds to go through it. He removes what looks like a crank, an electric screwdriver, and a heavy wrench. "I'm going to lure them this way, then dismantle them. To do that though, I'm going to need your help. Can you stand?"

"You're kidding," Mike hisses. "They can outrun me now."

"You just need to go backstage and grab a spare Freddy head. If I get caught, you might be as good as dead."

"Like I can't use some power tools to take something apart."

"You can't."

Mike suddenly feels sick again, hairs standing on end. What the hell is going on? Why is this happening now?

"I know how to take them apart in seconds. That might be all we have," Vincent clarifies.

"Fine...just...hold on."

Even though it feels like standing on fire, Mike manages to stand up. He looks over to the hole in the wall apprehensively. "Check for me. Give me a minute to get ready."

Vincent obliges, crawling over to the hole and carefully peering through. He moves around some, trying to get a good view of any and all the angles. "Freddy is on the stage. That's it. I can't see anything else."

With an audible gulp, Mike crawls by Vincent and looks for himself. No sight of the other three animatronics. Mike is still not ready for any of this. Vincent is picking the wall away by hand to make some more space for him to slip through. Clutching his leg, Mike starts to haul himself through. He falls to the other side and frantically looks about.

"Mike...y."

Freddy's eyes flash. His torso moves towards him, but he remains in position. His deep voice continues to drone, though the banter is pure script, there's a strange weight to his words. "We will always be best friends," he says. "Let's have a party! You and me. Forever, Mi...key."

"I'm sorry Greg," Mike mutters, taking slow, calculated steps towards the stage. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have fought with you." He staggers, having trouble adjusting to the pain with every limp. "I was so stupid. I didn't deserve...to live..."

As he got closer, he paused by Freddy. If they wanted him dead, perhaps he should just let them take him. The pain was getting intense on both the inside and out. He wouldn't have minded too terribly if it came to an end now.

He closed his eyes and took another step forward as the pitter-patter of quicker feet grew nearer.


	6. Night 5: Reanimated Secrets Pt2

The sound of metal piercing metal broke Mike out of his zen-like trance, as he spun around to identify the source of it.

Freddy was standing between him and Foxy, frame shaking as the aggressing animatronic tried pulling and shaking his bloody hook out of Freddy's chest. "SCALLYWAG!" Foxy screeched, sharing the same voice-box quality speech as his fellow bots. "I'LL MAKE YE WALK THE PLANK!"

"We'll be the be-be-best of friends!" Freddy responded, remaining relatively still as Foxy struggled. "Time to go! Time to go! It's been swell!"

Mike staggered back, unable to take his eyes off the tangled animatronics. He could only rationalize that Freddy was buying him some time. With or without intention, it didn't matter. He had to take advantage of this opportunity or Foxy would surely finish him off. He dipped into the backstage, nearly forgetting to scope it out. Lucky he had, because Chica was standing with her back to him. Even though one of these damned masks could still be stuffed with Scott's face, there was no time left to be picky about it. Mike reached for the easiest one to attained and dipped right back out again in time for Foxy to break free from Freddy's inner workings.

"I'LL MAKE YE WALK THE PLANK!" He cried, rising to full height. Mike didn't stick around for a second longer. As fast as he could limp, he practically threw himself off the stage. The head flew out of his grip, shot into the air and rolled on the ground underneath one of the tables. Mike was in excruciating pain, barely able to move. He knew this was a fool's errand from the start. Did he fail his brother yet again? Would the madness finally come to a gruesome end?

A piercing whistle sounded from the far left. Vincent is standing there, slowly removing the fingers from his mouth when Foxy turns his attention to him. "SCALLYWAG!" He's changed targets.

"RUN!" Vincent shouts. "Grab the helmet!"

Vincent takes off, leaving Mike to scramble for the head he dropped. He pulls the tablecloth aside and his heart stops when he sees Bonnie underneath. The helmets is only inches away from his face. Bonnie's voice sounds ten times louder in this proximity.

"Don't forget! We'll always-Don't forget! We'll always-DON'T FORGET!"

His eyes flash, but other than that he isn't moving. Mike grabs the head at the speed of a frog's darting tongue with a strangled wail. Whatever the hell that was about, he wasn't going to stick around and find out.

He limps towards the hole in the wall, rolls the head inside, and climbs in. Once there he takes a second to catch his breath. Vincent is still out there with all four animatronics. He left all of his tools strewn out on the floor. Even the flashlight is lying on the ground, facing that eerie yellow Bonnie in the corner. Why couldn't they just take the head off of that thing instead? He supposed Vincent had his reasons...

Mike picked up the flashlight nervously and used it to inspect the head, praying he didn't grab Scott's face in the process. It appears that this, like that dejected bot in the corner, is some kind of alternative palette of one of the existing bots. The strange thing is that it's deep purple in color, a mix of that and black. Hardly a happy color combo that would appeal to a bunch of kids. He checked inside of it. There were crossbeams holding bits and pieces in place, making something like this impossible to wear like Jeremy's mask was. But if it was fleshed out, it could work. As grim as it seems, there's a chance that Vincent won't return. Why the hell did he come out? What was the point?

Shifting for comfort, Mike changes position so he can check on the state of his leg. The rag is already pretty soaked in blood, and the pain is still there, albeit duller than it had been originally. His foot feels like it might be falling asleep. The rag was secured pretty tightly.

He waits in the dark, alert to the occasional shuffle, but disappointed to find that no one is coming. No police, no Vincent. What's more, he's starting to believe these animatronics are actually haunted. There's no mistaking what Freddy has done. He knows his name. He says it just like Greg did. He saved him when he had the perfect opportunity to kill him. But...is that something Greg would do? After the horrible things Mike said to him on that fateful night?

"Mike!"

A tremor goes through Mike's body as the voice booms his name over the speaker system. "Mike, it's me."

Once again the hairs on his back stand. Mike is beginning to become more aware of these strange correlations. Vincent says something, he gets tense. But he should be relieved to hear that voice again, shouldn't he?

"I'm trapped in the office. Foxy and Chica have me boxed in. I need you to come and get me."

He's got to be kidding. He should be safe if he just stays in there. Can't be that early, can it? Still, he sounds like he's cracking slightly. Maybe Vincent's actually claustrophobic.

"If you remove all the parts from that helmet and put it on, you should be safe. They won't attack you if you're in uniform. Be careful with Foxy though. I think he'll attack you regardless. Bring the supplies. I'll be waiting."

Goddamnit Vincent. You just had to be a big damn hero, didn't you? Mike gives a heavy sigh and proceeds to pick at the helmet. It's not as easy as pulling out the pins in a pincussion. The screwdriver and wrench were necessary to undo and pry out parts. In all it took him nearly fifteen minutes to clear enough space for his head, then another ten to remove those bulbous eyes.

"Mike, please hurry. It's getting very hard to breathe in here."

"I'm going!" he hollers back at the walls. Where the fuck are the police? He starts to pick up all the supplies, stuffing them in the backpack. Now he has to carry both his stuff and Vincent's with a gimpy leg.

There's only one way this can get much worse...

With the utmost reluctance, Mike puts on the purple Freddy mask. His field of vision is restricted to two three inch holes, which completely shoot down any and all of his peripherals. If this didn't work, at least he'd have the peace of mind to know that he wouldn't see it coming. Grabbing hold of the flashlight, he begins to crawl out of the hole again. His injured leg drags now but at least the hurt is manageable. The adrenaline must have kicked in for him to handle all of this at once.

Freddy is still standing on the stage outside, sparks firing from the hole in his chest. He turns his torso to Mike, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes look away as his torso turns back into its previous position. In no particular hurry, Mike starts to make his way towards the East Hall.

"Foxy is in the Cove," Vincent's voice warns. "Don't make too much noise."

Chica is standing at the end of the hall, outside the office window. Her head swivels to regard Mike, but after her eyes vibrate slightly, she turns her head to the office again.

"Get Chica's attention," Vincent orders.

Mike would be looking up at the intercom, if he could see anything at all, that is. "Excuse me?"

Chica suddenly turns her head to him again. Mike goes still. Two seconds later the door goes up and Vincent leaps out, shirtless, using what he wore on his back to cover Chica's head. "GO, GO, GO!"

Mike starts to lead the way, but Vincent shoots past him easily, with a bundle of paper clenched in hand. He smells a bit like kerosene.

Bonnie is standing in the Dining Hall facing the both of them as they run past, head tracking them. Vincent pops into the hole faster than a jackrabbit while Mike follows at a far slower, clumsier pace. He's beginning to grow light-headed. It won't be long now until the shock kicks in.

"Vince...I can't do this anymore," Mike gasps, letting himself sink to the ground again. "I need to rest for a minute."

"That's fine," he responds, not breathing quite as heavily. "I have everything I need."

Mike leans his head back, forgetting about the uncomfortable indents that the beams left inside. He reaches to remove the mask when an overwhelming nausea hits him. The light hits Vincent dead on, and due to the way it's bent, it makes him look a brilliant shade of purple. He drops the head on the ground, and Vincent reaches down to pause it with a light brush of his fingers.

"You've been invaluable," Vincent's voice is eerie calm and it only makes Mike feel sick. The blood felt like it was rushing from his head, like any second now he'd be dead to the world.

"I hoped I was wrong," he continued. "-about those children. It's faaar past their bedtime."

Vincent rose to his feet, fixing the Shadow Freddy mask over his head and shoulders. "I suppose I have no choice now. I'll just have to kill them again." With a wrench in hand, giving it a little spin, he suddenly swung at Mike, catching him across the forehead and knocking him out cold.

_You sit up in bed, your body covered in cold sweat. You just had a very horrible, terrible dream. It takes you a few seconds to realize you are in your bedroom again, with friendly, inviting stars glowing on your walls. The nightlight brings some comfort, but when you turn to your brother's cot, your heart sinks at the realization that it is empty._

_All that remains in his place are a stack of toys that your mother assembled. She told you never to touch them, but you feel compelled to take at least one of them. You miss your brother terribly, or at least, you probably should. His toys are all you have left of him as your memory seems to fail you far more frequently than ever. It makes you cry because your mommy probably thinks you have no heart._

_Slipping out of bed, you inspect the pile, trying very hard to remember when your brother got these toys. Many of them used to be yours actually. You don't want to take any of those because they only remind you of yourself. There's one that catches your eyes soon enough-a tiny, stuffed bear. You vaguely remember this bear, more with a sense of nostalgia than that of dread. This is his toy. There's nothing about it that's yours. That's why as you take it and hold it closely to your nose, the smell brings you comfort. _

_"Don't leave us here." You say this, but they don't feel like your words. You're a littel scared, but you won't try to look away._

_"Where are you?" This is stupid. Who are you talking to?_

_"In the dark. Waiting for you," you whisper back to yourself._

_Your eyes start to sting a little. This is so dumb. Why are you hurting yourself? _

_Your closet door begins to vibrate, scaring you stiff. The door flies open, revealing nothing but a deep, dark oblivion beyond. "Please...don't let him get away." This time the voice isn't coming from you at all, but from the dark void before you. It sounds like it belongs to a little girl._

_"What...what do I do?"_

_"Come to us."_

_You don't trust this voice. It sounds like your brother's too. It can't decide how it's going to deceive you. "Who are you?"_

_"A memory. This is all we have left. We're family now."_

_"I have a family!" You pull the bear to your chest. It's so tiny but it fills you with courage. "I'm not afraid of you!"_

_"We need your help. Please..."_

_"Leave me alone!" You shut your eyes. You won't listen._

_"Mikey, please!"_

_You look up and see him, standing right there at the doorway. Your brother Greg, looking right back at you, holding a large bear mask in his hands._

_"She just wants your help! Please, help her!"_

_"Who is she?" you ask, clenching the bear tightly in one hand. _

_"She's a friend! She's going to help us catch the bad man!"_

_The bad man. The man who took Greg away. The memory creeps in on you, the blood and the screams, the look in his eyes. You've SEEN those eyes before. And now you have a chance to stop him._

_"Come to us, Mikey!"_

_Your feet struggle to carry you forward, but you soon find yourself listening to your younger brother for a change._

_As soon as you step into the darkness, you are transported to an empty stage. You look down to the plush in your hand, only this time instead of being brown, he is sunbleached gold, as if he's done some aging. Your hand is still tiny only it's not your hand. It looks a little more delicate. You don't recognize that big scratch either and you just don't feel like yourself at all. For some reason however, you feel that this is fine. You don't mind being someone else right now because maybe they know what they're doing._

_You climb carefully down from the stage and look around. The place looks kind of shabby, but that's okay. It just looks scary because it's dark. For some reason it doesn't make you as sad. Something else makes you feel worse. You feel lost. You're supposed to do something important but you can't remember what. You start to cry as you begin to explore this place._

_It's kind of like a maze, but you know where all the hallways will eventually take you. You see a curtained off stage in one room that's smaller than the one you stood on. You know it belongs to Foxy, but he isn't home right now. Where did everybody go?_

_You go towards the office. Maybe there's an adult there who can help you._

_When you get there, the door is shut. There is a lot of smoke inside. You reach out to touch the door and your hand goes through. You carefully phase through and step inside. It looks like nobody's home, and there's a fire licking at a bunch of papers thrown all over the floor. The fire can't hurt you, so you ignore it. At least the other door is open. _

_As you walk down the hall, you notice there's a big mess all over the floor. Before you get to it, your foot accidentally kicks at something. It's an eyepatch, sliding across the ground before coming to a slow stop. That's Foxy's patch, and over there is Foxy's head. Someone broke Foxy into a bunch of tiny pieces. This makes you very sad, even though you don't know why. Maybe Foxy was a friend of yours you forgot about, just like your brother._

_You continue along, passing by the kitchens and nearing the dining hall. There's an even bigger mess up ahead. You immediately recognize Chica's bib, Bonnie's dismembered arm, and Freddy's damaged torso. All your friends are in a bunch of tiny pieces. You fall to your knees and bury your face in your hands because you can't stop crying._

_"It's okay."_

_"We're still here."_

_"In here! With him!"_

_"Let's finish that scallywag!"_

_Your friends! _

_When you look up, you can see a boy with an eye-patch motioning to you through a massive hole in the wall. _

_"Come on! We'll make him walk the plank!"_

_You pick yourself off the ground, nod to him, and make your way to the hidey hole. As you get closer, you here someone else's voice inside. It's louder, stronger, and way scarrier than anything you've ever heard in your life. Your friends look scared too, even Foxy. The bad man is behind the game booths. There's a trail of blood and a bloody rag lying on the floor on the way back there._

_"It's such a shame you know," the voice says, ending in a groan and punctuated by a thud. "I feel like we're connected somehow, but you just...know way too much." There's a sigh. "I guess it's time to sever that tie."_

_You clench the bear tightly again. It's time to put an end to this. Time to set everything right._

Vincent brandishes Foxy's hook, which he salvaged off the animatronic he recently dismembered. "Foxy was always my favorite."

He circles around Mike's unconscious form until he's standing right beside his head. He kneels down, almost looking genuinely sorry about what he has to do. "So aggressive. Most likely to attack an unsuspecting night guard. Scrappy in life, and in death. Almost makes me feel...as proud as a parent." He runs the point of the hook from the base of Mike's neck to his chin. "I'll make sure to burn this place down before your pathetic soul can cling to anything."

He rears back the hook, taking aim, when sudden flashes of an empty Golden Freddy head assail his mind. He drops the hook to cover his eyes. "STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE! You're nothing! NOTHING!"

He picks up the hook and turns around, eyes widening when he sees a glowing little girl standing before him.

She has tears still streaming from her eyes, but her anger is palpable. _"It's over."_

"Get away from me!"

Vincent lunges for her with the hook, but ends up going right through her. He keeps swiping at her madly before holding a hand to his head again. "It's a trick! You can't stop me! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!"

_"The game's over!_" another voice adds. There's now a glowing boy standing on the other side of him. Vincent recognizes him too. It's no surprise. His demons returned to haunt him one last time.

"You can't hurt me! You can't even save yourselves!"

Vincent tried lunging for the boy this time, but somehow the girl was able to not only grab at his pant leg, but tug hard enough to trip him. "I-impossible!" he cried, stumbling. He nearly tripped over Mike trying to get away from these spirits, only to find three more blocking his exit.

_"End of the line, scallywag!"_ the boy with the patch cried out.

_"Playtime is over!"_ Another boy wearing a bowtie chimed in.

_"It's time-out for you, mister!"_ The girl with the bib on the end added.

"Shut up!" Vincent shouted. "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! You stupid brats! You're nothing!" His attention turned to the yellow Bonnie suit in the corner, but he turned to the three children blocking the way before they could sense his intentions. "You think you're smart, huh? Think you can stop me? You don't even know how! I'll kill Mike! And then I'll make my own way out!"

He bolted for the suit, sliding next to it and expertly picking the keyhole for the crank with Foxy's hook. The spring mechanism inside the suit came unlocked, allowing him to slip inside. He was familiar with these hybrids. Golden Freddy was his uniform of choice back then. Looks like he'll have to make due with Spring Bonnie. He was just as easy to get into, even easier to move around in like a finely-greased machine. Brand-new even. Who the hell knows why this thing never got put to use. He stands up effortlessly, gazing at the ghost through a fine set of translucent eyes. "I WIN!" he shouts, laughing triumphantly. "You lose, and I WIN!"

But just a little too late by the time Vincent realized...he only counted five children.

With a sickening snap, his entire body was both rendered paralyzed and forcibly compressed. Nothing but red clouds his field of vision. Nothing but pain is all he knows. His body is slowly dragged back down by the force of gravity, muscles reduced to pulp, bones reduced to splinters. The world fades all around him as he is dragged to the ground by the very forces that be.

A spring flying out of the suit is the last thing to be heard. The children's spirits wait, watching him, but something is wrong. Their expressions remain despondant as they begin to fade away. Meanwhile, Mike is beginning to regain consciousness to the sound of his alarm going off.

His whole body feels like it was run over twice, but he almost immediately remembers impending danger and sits up quickly. He switches off the alarm on his watch to get a better listen, but it's incredibly quiet. The only change he can note is the smell of something burning. The flashlight was left by his feet, meaning that if Vincent is still here, he doesn't have it.

That son of a bitch. What happened? How much of that was real? Then a swelling ache on his brow swiftly reminds him of the wrench he took across the face, which means that he didn't imagine getting attacked. "Vincent," he growls, trying to get up. He fails the first time around, but managed to stay upright the second.

He stumbles out from behind the arcade blocks and into a pool of...blood. He tracks it to the golden Bonnie suit, which has been moved and-

Holy fucking shit.

If Mike had anything left in him at all he would lost it.

He couldn't tell if the man in that suit was Vincent, but he could wager a guess. The feeling that it was remained very strong in him. That, and the suit had not been occupied before they got back here. This corpse is fresh. If Mike wasn't about to pass out yet again, he'd take more time to examine it. But no, he didn't have time for that. He needed to leave this place far as fuck behind him.

But first, he had to find Freddy. He needed to see his brother one last time.

He climbed out out of the hole, which broke away even more underneath him as he tried to get his legs through. From his view on the ground he could make out the disfigured bodies of the animatronics he spent five nights cowering from. Now that he knew who they really were, he couldn't help but feel the weight of guilt upon him again. He notices a thin haze of smoke over the area, and the burning smell is a lot stronger out here. Amongst the rubble he spots Freddy's head, ear torn off and jaw removed. Mike quickly closed the distance between them, falling to his knees beside it and picking it up off the ground.

"Greg...Greg are you still in there?"

The eyes flash briefly as the voicebox stammers incoherently. The head goes silent and the lights remain dim.

"He's gone, Greg. That suit killed him."

The eyes begin to flicker. The voicebox buzzes but fails to produce any words.

"You can rest now...you don't have to be here anymore. You can go home...with mom. She's waiting for you."

The voicebox buzzes, until four words are managed. "-Hee wih-wih-wih-will come baaaaaaa..." the final vowel grows lower as the whole thing powers down.

_"He always does."_

Mike turns to the source of the voice. A little girl he now knows quite well, sitting by a sad-looking boy he had never seen before. The girl chose him because he was the only one who could remember what she used to look like after she was given life. The only way she could help her friends was by making him remember, and he knew she was sorry for scaring him. She is sitting up on the rack where the stagelights are hung, swinging her legs and looking down in dismay. _"You should go...before you burn with us."_

"Why won't you leave?"

The girl looks down, towards the hole. _"It's not finished. The bad man will come back, and we have to be ready for him when he wakes up."_

The golden Bonnie. Does she mean that...it'll become like they were? He is about to return to the safe room when the girl calls out to him. _"Stop it!"_

"But there's still time!"

_"Greg doesn't want you to get hurt,"_ she says pointedly. _"If you go in there, you'll die."_

"If I don't, then Greg won't rest!"

_"He wants to help us,"_ the boy next to her mutters. _"Because I helped him."_

"So what? He's my kid brother! I can't abandon him again!"

There's a crashing sound as the fire licks away at the structure, weakening it and reducing the East Hall to ashes and smoke. The fire has spread quickly, but with all the grease on these walls, it's of no surprise.

_"Go! If you stay, you'll die,"_ the girl orders. She disappears, but the last word echoes as a shockwave emits from where she sat. It knocks Mike back ever slightly. The boy disappears along with her. The smoke is starting to get much more dense as the detectors begin to go off.

Mike knows he doesn't have that much time, but he's not going to stand idly by just to sentence his brother to another several decades of torture. He starts to kick the false wall, chipping away more of it. His bad leg is in terrible pain and he can hardly keep standing on it. He tries tearing at it with his bare hands, coughing and choking on the smoke. He could swear, while he's pulling away chunks of the wall, that the golden Bonnie's head gives a violent twitch. He can feel the heat behind him as the fire starts to spread into the Dining Hall. If he waits any longer it'll block the entrance. Maybe enough of the wall is torn away for the fires to lick that abomination inside.

The wall begins to crumble along the top before raining down, sending dust and plaster everywhere. Mike's vision is completely compromised between the smoke and the dust, which means his time here is up. He squints and tries to limp towards the exit, barely making it to the door in time for a nasty coughing fit. Lights are dancing just outside, reds and blues and men are jogging towards the building. Mike can barely make any of this out as the keys keep falling through his numb, clumsy fingers. With every attempt comes another failure. He's about to pass out with his head against the frame when an elbow bursts through the glass door.

Salvation.

But how long will that last? And when will it come to those who needed it most?


	7. Night ?: Epilogue

AN: It's been a short, fun ride! But I'm afraid like all rides, this one is coming to an end. But what is this I spy? A likely sequel? Hrm...I guess that all depends on if you'd LIKE there to be a sequel...

**Audio Transcript: Date on File: XX/XX/2023**

"No kidding? Wow man, that must make you like, sixty-years-old."

_"Fifty-six."_

"Woah. Uh-heh, my apologies, man. So uh...what was it like?"

_"You're asking me what it was like to work for a company where children were being lured to the slaughter?"_

"Uh...yeah."

_"Pretty horrible."_

"Uh, right. So like, you were the night guard?"

_"That's right."_

"And you like, survived?"

_"Probably."_

"Woah. So like, why do you wanna get in on this freakshow? Uh, no offense but I don't want an old man keeling over from a heart attack heh-heh."

_"I'm fifty-six."_

"Yeah?"

_"I still have a over a decade before I can retire. I'm not an old man."_

"Riiight. Sorry. So like, why?"

_"It's...all I know."_

"What like, being a guard and all?"

_"Sort of. Look, you want authenticity, right?"_

"Yeah?"

_"Well, you've got it. I'm right here."_

"Far out! Right uh, I'll talk to my guy, he'll talk to his guy and we'll get you all set up, man. It's going to be killer."

_"On that note, did you find anything, I don't know...cool?"_

"Not yet but uh, we found like this one place, y'know, it's actually not far from here. There's got to be some mad bounty going on there. Like, super legit, y'know?"

_"Any animatronics?"_

"Nooo not yet. I know. But uh, I'm working with this one guy, I don't know, who's like, 'everything there is to know about the franchise'. You might know him actually heh-heh, I mean uh, not 'cos you're both old or anything. He says he's been working with the company since like the 1980s or something."

_"What's his name?"_

"Man, I don't know."

"_Oh, come on. I want to know if I'd recognize him."_

"Uh...uh, it's like, Frank or something. Fred uh...no..."

_"Fritz?"_

"Fritz! Yeah! That's right! Like that cat!"

_"Like the cat."_

"Yeah, you know him?"

_"Sort of. We should probably meet."_

"Totally! Why don't you come in tomorrow night, man? I'll get you all set up!"

_"I'd like that."_

"What's like, your name again?"

_"Mike. Mike Schmidt."_


End file.
